


A Moment

by unofficialsherlockian



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: End of S9, spoilers for s9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unofficialsherlockian/pseuds/unofficialsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reflection from James's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment

“Moments. 

All gathering towards this one.”  
― Jenny Downham, Before I Die

 

Moments. Snippets of time. Sometimes James felt that life was comprised of moments, that the things he would reflect on later made up his entire being. What was important. Lewis said to him that life was measured with moments and not minutes. It seemed funny at the time, but James felt it was important.

3 years back, staring to a flat, Lewis waiting to deliver news to an old woman that her son had died of drugs and not murder.  
"Tell her with kindness," James had said, gently. "You're good at that."

He doesn't know if Lewis had ever realized the truth behind that remark. The gratification.

There is a highlight, a silver of sunlight to the clouds that make up some of Jame's life. And it's when Lewis's voice gets quiet and gentle and _kind_ , endlessly kind and he says "alright."

That "alright" is one of the most important things James can think of hearing.

It's second only to their morning after the long, final night of the Crevecour case, where Jame's childhood had been all but completely unearthed, Mortmaigne's crimes exposed...

They'd had a rape case earlier, and James hadn't given any sign that he was haunted by his childhood, but Lewis after Crevecour seemed to have an understanding that James appreciated. And hated all the same. But ever since, in the years that followed, Robbie Lewis had never asked, not once, if Mortmaigne's perverted hand had ever come down upon James. And James loved him for it. Any confession he had to make to his boss was almost always, since the Zoe Kenneth case, done on his own terms.

But that morning, standing out on the lawn of Crevecour, James chain-smoking since he's been cleared by paramedics; Robbie Lewis, in all his kindness, soft voice and all has told him:  
"You weren't responsible for anything that happened here. Not then and not now."  
And it nearly breaks James, because he does feel responsible, for then and now, for Paul, for his own bad experiences here, for Briony and what Mortmaigne had done to her. It was all so messed up in his head, and Lewis's words cut through the self-hatred and sadness. And it helped.

To this day, he doesn't forget those words and their tone.

Moments also of laughter, dumping Robbie's old mattress in the skip and howling in his adrenaline and the look at his bosses face, the gut chilling feeling when Lewis mentions it's like giving away a piece of Val. James wishes often that he could have met her. But Robbie is who he is now because of her death, for better or worse, the Robbie as he is now has made James who is is now.

He thinks often of his father in some moments with Lewis. Old enough to be his dad, but kinder and more understanding. More likely to listen--exactly why James felt as though his patience, his calm, had been severed when Lewis wouldn't listen to him about Will McEwan. His dad had never listened, but Lewis had, the first they they met, listened and treated him with respect, and the thought of losing that would've driven him mad. They'd shouted in the street at one another, both probably close to their own breaking points, James far gone from emotion. He was just glad they were able to be close again after that. It was all that mattered in his world.

On the phone, hearing about his dad being sick. Thinking about Lewis, talking about how young his own father had lived to be. James's heart threatening to stop flat at that. His dad. Life without Lewis. Loss.

Moments with his dad. A lot of them negative. Then, finding his dad had read all the book's he'd given him. The note in the margins. It felt like his father was talking to him for the first time.

Fights with Nell. Over decades. Most recently, over their dad. James hated it. Didn't want to see them. Did want to see them. Loved them. Hated them.

Lewis.  
"How's your dad?"  
"He's not getting any better, is he?"  
"Go and see him."

If only it were like that.

Laura, bless her. "We were excited" her and Robbie, excited for him, the prospect of a girlfriend. He was positive that if it'd been a boyfriend they would show the same amount of love and affection. They made up for the parents that had been so absent throughout his childhood. They mattered.

Then, later, that understanding based on so few facts, that perceptiveness that James admired in Lewis that went beyond detective work and was just simply born out of caring.

"You don't have to see your dad if you don't want to."

Robbie makes it that simple. It is that simple. He tries.

Fishing. With his dad and Lewis. Thinks of his dad as his father, but Lewis as his father figure. Family isn't just blood.

Lewis, teaching him how to fish. He watches, attentive, cigarette between his lips. He learns. His father, he never listened when his father tried to get him to do this. It meant more with Lewis's hands on the poll, the steady reassuring voice showing him how.

His father.  
"I'm trying to get my little boy to go fishing."  
His father. His memory-lost father, sees James as Lewis's son, attentively learning to fish. His father doesn't know the years of history between him and James, doesn't know James for the adult at the best of times. Little boy. Back when things were easier.

"Give him time."

Lewis. How things are. His father and father figure, all together. Past and present.

Lewis, leaving on a trip. Moody says James will be fine without him.

"Nearly 24 hours," Lewis says grumpily. He is ready for the flight, however.

"Worth it though."

Lewis gives him a look. "Have to get there first."

"Enjoy yourself, you deserve it," he says awkwardly. Any silence between them feels pressing and he's not sure why. 

"So do you," Lewis says, giving him a look. He means it though. And James looks back seriously.

"Have to get there first." He grimaces a smile and Robbie smiles back as he walks away, arm clung to by Laura.

Get there.  
James feels confident that he will.

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself for a while that I was only going to explore BBC Sherlock on this account.  
> But seeing as Lewis is my favorite tv series (and by extension, Morse and Endeavour), I figured I should put some ideas to paper (or keyboard) and see what happens. I've been watching Lewis since I was pretty young and I've had alot of ideas about it over the years. So it took a while to figure out what I wanted to say, what I wanted to sum up, but I think Robbie and Jame's relationship was the figurehead of the series for me, so here you are.
> 
> Let me know what you think. Hopefully you've enjoyed.


End file.
